Details
by Starbrigid
Summary: What if we were friends? No, really, it's an interesting question. In which freshmen are bullied, poetry is written, rivals keep secrets, and people go around in circles. Gen or MomoKai or MomoRyo or InuKai.
1. 1 to 5: Into a Dream

Pairing- Gen or MomoKai, or MomoRyo and InuKai.

Disclaimer- PoT is not mine.

Author's Notes- Again as in with Hype, "this could be considered sort of a series of drabbles as opposed to a story. These are set at different times and not necessarily in chronological order. It's more a product of writer's block than anything else." Bear with me here, and sorry. Same form.

Inspired by episode 117. Thank you, ao, for the new episodes, and hopefully many more soon! Also, good luck to Monnie-san. Really.

Music for Fic- Kare Kano (Ending Theme)- _Yume no Naka e- _Into a Dream__

Details

Starbrigid

_What is it that you're searching for?_

_Is it something that's hard to find?_

_And you looked in your bag and your desk_

_But you still can't find it..._

_Are you just going to keep searching for it?_

_Wouldn't you rather dance with me?_

_Don't you want to try_

_Going into a dream, into a dream?_

_Ooh..._

_Into a dream..._

1. Something I Never Thought

If you look at someone from far off, you can see them, but you can't see the details.

There are things I'd imagine you'd be surprised to find out about me. It's true we know each other pretty well after all these years of rivalry. Like, I know how much you really do train. I know how easy it is to get you ravingly angry. I know just how much my name for you fits.

I think I'm the opposite of your ideal for a person. I'm easy-going, outgoing, loose, generally looking for fun and fun to be around, and with lots of friends. I like jokes. I don't care too much for formality, and I don't ever really think I have much to apologize for. I love food and sports and sleeping. Come to think of it, maybe I'm just the opposite of you.

But you're just as stubborn as I am. I'm as quick to jump to anger or violence as you are. And we're both good at tennis. I train and work hard, too. You get on my nerves just as much as I get on yours. We're both strong.

When you know someone, you don't really think of them as a person. I know, that sounds stupid, but think about it for a second. I figured it out the first time I saw one of my hell-raiser hyper little sisters cry. She'd asked a boy at her school to the dance and he'd said no. I'd never thought of her like that. I hadn't known what to do. It's not that everyone has weaknesses, although that's probably also true. It's that there are details. Past the stereotypes, we all have lives.

I once tried to read _War and Peace _when I was 10 and didn't get past page three. I brush my teeth every night for exactly two minutes, because I didn't brush them much in elementary school, so they were yellow, and I want people to like me. My gym teacher in freshman year told me I should join the basketball team because it suited me much better than tennis. I would have switched if it hadn't felt so much like admitting defeat to you. My mom wishes she could come to my games but something always comes up at the last minute. I watch anime while I lift weights, it helps me concentrate, and I actually like shoujo anime, too. I'm a sucker for sentimental stuff.

I had to spend about half an hour talking myself up to asking Echizen to get burgers with me the first time. I'm actually a pretty good dancer, it comes naturally to me, against what anyone would think. I had a girlfriend in my sixth year of elementary school who I liked a lot, but she ended up dumping me for a junior high boy. Sometimes I feel guilty after arguing with Kamio Akira because you're supposed to be my rival.

I know you'd think it's all stupid anyway. And I don't know any of those things in return. I don't know why you hiss all the time. I don't know what your family's like, if you get good or bad grades, if there's someone you have a crush on. I don't know why you picked tennis to play, which players you admire, which you emulate, if you want to play in the professional circuit when you grow up.

I don't know what kind of music you like to listen to. I don't know your favorite color, your favorite food, favorite ice cream, favorite movie. I don't know why you didn't apologize to me when we first bumped into each other on day one of year one of junior high. I don't know why you play doubles with Inui. I'm clueless as to how you got control over your Boomerang Snake. I don't even really exactly know what you think of me. I can guess, but I don't know.

And sometimes, we play doubles with each other. It's never our choice, but we have to. It's strange, though, the feeling I get at times. When our strengths combine together, we'll always win. And it's then, in that time, and those things I don't know, those details, everything I could have known if we were friends- well, I still don't know it. But I feels like I might, and you might, too.

2. Tuning

Creative writing was one of the weirdest subjects Momo had ever taken. Well, it wasn't really a subject, but they did spend a lot of time in Japanese class working on it this year. Momo would be the first to admit that he wasn't very good at it. He'd asked Fuji-sempai about it, and the smaller boy had smiled and told him he thought all writing was just putting yourself down on paper.

Today Momo's class was supposed to write poetry, starting their non-prose unit. They'd been doing poetry since elementary school here and there, pushed between more solid studies of different books and such, but this was shaping out to be rather different. Their first day on poetry, the teacher just instructed them to write a poem. She didn't give them any other instructions, no more specific guidelines, and refused to say anything else.

Everyone except for a girl or two was pretty much stumped for a while. Momo finally decided that if he couldn't get Sensei to give him any more concrete directions, he might as well just go for it. He ended up gushing over summer and hamburgers in stanza form, words honest, and found it much quicker and easier a process than he'd anticipated. Why had he hesitated to start?

He saw Kaidoh in the corner of the room, as far back as the Mamushi had been able to get, and opened his mouth to call out a customary greeting jeer, but then noticed something odd. Kaidoh hadn't written anything on his paper, and was just staring down at it. Momo snorted, shoved his fingers in his mouth so Kaidoh wouldn't hear his snickers. Like Mamushi was really creative or deep. Why, even Momo was better than he was!

A few minutes before class ended, the teacher assigned them peer reviews to do. She put Momo and Kaidoh together. She was no doubt completely insane, Momo thought. The other kids in the class laughed, expecting a fight to divert them from their work.

Momo tossed his poem to Kaidoh, who read it quickly. Momo glared at Kaidoh challengingly, watched as his rival gave him the lowest possible numbers on the scoring tool provided. "What's wrong with it?" Momo demanded. Stupid Mamushi. But like he could have expected anything else. God.

Kaidoh hissed. "It isn't poetry."

"Yeah, it is!" Momo yelled back.

Hiss. "It isn't."

"It is if I say it is!"

"That just means you're an idiot!"

"You're the idiot, Mamushi!"

"What did you call me?"

"MAMUSHI!"

"Teme-"

"Let's see you do any better!" Momo grabbed Kaidoh's poem and began to read it out loud, shouting it at the top of his lungs to the rest of the class. Kaidoh, entertainingly enough, literally froze, like a little kid playing freeze tag who was particularly good at it.

It was a haiku, 5-7-5. Momo read it, voice quieting, and stopped.

Their yearbook came out way too early that year. All the pictures lining the rosters looked strange, as if the kids had been caught unawares by the flash of the camera. Kaidoh was scowling so fiercely in his that people reading the book could almost feel they were the one he was glowering at. Momo had yawned at the last second, so was yawning in his picture, mouth stretched wide, eyes scrunched shut. At least he didn't have a double chin.

Normally, yearbooks were released at the end of the year, not in the middle of it. People were used to carrying theirs around and getting goodbye signatures, but it was way too early for that. Frankly, it would have been morbid to do so. Consequently no one was quite sure what to do with them.

Momo sat with Echizen in their burger place with his new yearbook and went through the pictures, giving each girl a "yes", "no", or "maybe", smiling and saying nice things to soften the negatives. Echizen watched, bored, and commented afterwards that Momo had incredibly bad taste.

Superlatives were the main event, publicized only with the book's release. They were done for each grade, not just the third years. Momo was completely blown away by the second year results. He'd been the guy chosen for Friendliest, Loudest, and Most Athletic. He hadn't expected to win anything. He didn't think of himself as that popular.

The other regulars showed up a lot also, of course. In first year, the popular-despite-himself Echizen had been dubbed Most Original, Most Photogenic, and Most Talented. That guy Horio had gotten Loudest. In third year, Tezuka had won Most Talented and Most Likely to Succeed. Kikumaru had gotten Best Smile. Inui had won Smartest. For the first time ever, someone won both Loudest and Shyest- Kawamura, needless to say. Fuji was awarded Most Photogenic and Most Original. It was such a complete sweep by the tennis club it was almost embarrassing.

None of this really surprised Momo, though. The only thing that puzzled him was the way people, not just second years but first and third years, kept staring at him in the halls and laughing. It wasn't until, a few days later, looking at the superlatives section more closely, he understood.

He was in another picture, one he hadn't known had been taken. It was of him and Kaidoh in their regular uniforms, fighting as usual, clenched fists waving in each other's faces, picture freezing their expressions as identical growls. They had won Cutest Couple.

3. If Friends

Kaidoh hissed at the freshman waiting to register for tennis club. They stood around, impossibly tiny, bragging to each other of their no doubt completely nonexistent skills. They all looked weak. He hissed at them again, and they scampered away.

Away to Momo, who stood in their escape path, smiling idiotically, as was the norm. They stopped, apprehensive of his height, his regular jacket the same as Kaidoh's. It wasn't obvious, but he was favoring one ankle over the other. Kaidoh knew it was sprained, of course. That was why he was there instead of at the game with the seniors, to stay behind with his best friend.

"Hey, guys!" Momo said brightly. "You're joining the tennis club?"

They nodded, looking rather shaken. Momo grinned, patted a small dark-haired boy on the head, but not in an at all patronizing or condescending way, friendly. "Don't worry about Mamushi over there," Momo said cheerfully. "He's cool, really."

They nodded to him again, looks on their faces turning adoring. Kaidoh snorted, made his way over to the group. "I'm Momo!" Momo declared. "Call me Momo-chan!"

"No, we can't," the freshman said in near unison. Momo pouted, but recovered admirably.

"Run along and sign up!" Momo called, and they dashed off, chattering excitedly to each other. Momo had won some more young fans.

He turned to Kaidoh, grinning. "You're late, Mamushi."

"You are," Kaidoh retorted.

Momo chuckled, slung an easy arm around Kaidoh's shoulders. Kaidoh flinched automatically, cheeks reddening as usual, but he didn't try to push his friend away. "So did you do the social studies essay?" Momo asked.

Kaidoh groaned lowly. "I'm not letting you copy it."

Momo shrugged around Kaidoh. "'Course not." He'd gotten an inch or two taller than Kaidoh over the summer, which Kaidoh was very pissed off about.

Eiji-sempai had called them the Terrible Two, and it had stuck. Arai was dead scared of them. All the juniors and seniors knew of them and generally liked them. Some passing girl waved to them, and Momo waved back, Kaidoh looking away. Momo just grinned, tightening his grip around Kaidoh's deceptively slender shoulders.

"Mamushi says he thinks you're cute, Aiko-chan!" Momo yelled, and Kaidoh slugged him.

Five minutes later Kaidoh was pressing ice to Momo's eye and still-swollen ankle, hissing under his breath. Momo exhaled sharply as the plastic covering slipped off and pure burning cold had struck the sensitized flesh of his leg. "Thanks," Momo had said. Kaidoh couldn't have told if he was being sarcastic or not.

"Are you coming running tonight?" Kaidoh asked. He had to ask because of Momo's ankle.

"It won't get better if I don't use it." Momo spoke with the complete confidence of the illogical. "Wouldn't miss it for anything."

"You just don't want me to get ahead of you," Kaidoh sneered.

Momo grinned. I already am ahead of you, he thought. He reached out and snatched the orange bandana off Kaidoh's head. He loved to steal them. Kaidoh growled, reaching for it. Momo, struck with sudden inspiration, stuck it down his pants. Kaidoh's eyes widened, and he let out a little whine of disbelief.

Momo leered. "Aw, what's wrong, Mamushi? Shy?"

Kaidoh was red again, just looking away. Momo ended up giving it back to him.

They played tennis against each other for a while. Kaidoh, by a very narrow margin, ended up winning, and Momo launched into an extended sulk. Kaidoh looked rather smug, unusual for him, as he helped a tired Momo off the courts. There had been a freshman watching them, big-eyed and dark-haired with a pretty face and an arrogant look. Momo hurried to his own feet, embarrassed, when he finally saw their audience.

"Hey, it's you," Momo said. "Are you still interested in joining the tennis club?"

"Yeah," the boy said, "I think I am. Mada mada dane, Momo-chan-sempai."

Kaidoh didn't know who the kid was and hadn't known Momo knew him, so he just left.

Momo called Kaidoh Mamushi, his exclusive nickname being the animal his friend evoked. Kaidoh often called him Momoshiro-san, which Momo suspected he did solely to infuriate him. The boy was manically formal, but he wasn't even that formal in addressing their sempai in the tennis club, and Momoshiro-san was one hell of a mouthful.

"Momoshiro-san," Kaidoh hissed, a few seats diagonal from Momo in their current class. "Stop eating, you pig!"

"Shut up, Mamushi," Momo muttered through grains of rice. "You'll give me away."

"He already has," the teacher said, coming up behind Momo and startling him into a shriek. "Eating again, Momo?" she sighed, and pointedly took his bento away from him. Momo watched it go with a forlorn expression. "Detention."

When Momo went to the detention hall at lunchtime, Kaidoh was sitting there waiting, his bento spread out on the desk before him, neatly divided in two.

4. If Not

Once, I almost drowned. I went out to the stream for training too late, worked past exhausted, and walked out too far to the center of the flooding river, where my feet couldn't touch the ground and my eyes couldn't see over the water anymore. And the current was strong, and pulled at me, and pushed me down, and the river was flooding. The night was black, my vision black, the air was black. I couldn't breathe, and I almost drowned.

I didn't, of course. I struggled and fought my way out by myself. I swam to the riverbank and lay there and saw only the night sky, stars not visible above the smog.

Inui-sempai saw I was slower the day after it happened, asked about it. He watches me whenever he can, and he always knows when something's changed. I wouldn't tell anyone, but it can almost feel good to have someone pay attention to me, to choose me to look at. I don't understand it, but I do remember it as being the only time anyone's ever done that. He's my sempai, and he's really, really strong.

I don't want my rival to know I hold onto someone's regard like that. If I think about the idiot of the Dunk Smash Idiot knowing I care about anyone's approval but my own-

It would be like him knowing how much scary stories affect me, it would be like him knowing just how much I truly love my family, like him knowing that kittens are my favorite things in the entire world.

Inui-sempai asked me to play doubles with him. I won't. I've only ever played singles, except for with the idiot, and that wasn't my choice. I know it dragged me down. I can't fight when I have to worry about someone else.

I can't let the idiot beat me, and that spurs me on. Everything is easy for him. He doesn't have my will. He can make me angry in that more than anyone else. I need to prove I'm different from him. He shouldn't be trying to be friends with Echizen, he should be trying to beat him. It annoys me whenever I see him making a fool of himself over that brat. I'm not a viper.

I want to be so strong Inui-sempai will keep having to rewrite his data. I'll grind Momoshiro into the dirt and show him that my tennis, developed alongside and only with his, developed to be different from him- I'll show him the way I live is the only way.

I didn't have much time to think when I was falling, when I was fighting against the river. I just remember thinking that if I drowned, I would disappoint you.

_You don't even let yourself sleep_

_And you don't smile anymore._

_Crawling in the dirt, crawling in the dirt_

_What in the world are you searching for?_

_Often the case is that when you stop searching-_

_That's when you find what you're looking for._

_Let's dance. Wouldn't you like to_

_Go off into a dream?_

_Ooh..._

_Into a dream..._

_Ooh..._

_Into a dream..._

_Saa..._


	2. 6: An Angel's Promise

Author's Notes- A piece written for my Candy-sempai a long time ago. I just re-found it! There won't be any more of this fic, or any more TeniPuri from me, but this was for her. Please enjoy.

This is set in the year after the series, with a third-year Kaidoh and Momo as captain and vice-captain of Seigaku, respectively.

Details

Starbrigid

6.

If

Today had been a good day, up until third period. Third period, both him and Kaidoh's free, was the one they'd designated as their time to work on club stuff together. They had to do it with each other, because Momo was vice president, so they did, however grudgingly. It didn't make Momo's day any better, but it didn't make it any worse, either. He and Kaidoh- well, things had changed between them. Sometimes, Momo thought they'd grown up.

Ryuzaki-sensei gave them her office for it, gone for the day because of some tennis conference. She'd left her window open, and because of a capricious, unexpected rain, the papers on her desk were all soaked. Momo walked in to find Kaidoh bent over them, trying to salvage them. Momo looked at the papers the Mamushi had separated and laid out to dry and smiled. Even from the beginning, he'd known Kaidoh wasn't totally of a bad sort. Sure, someone might be a stubborn bastard, and they might only tolerate you, but things like this made them seem pretty cool.

Getting to know Kaidoh was like that, though, every interaction yielding a new discovery, something Kaidoh tried not to show but really didn't mind exposing in the two of them's own special pseudo-confidence. It was made all the more satisfying because it was Kaidoh, so it was still everything Momo loved, tennis and competition and danger and all the words his mouth fit around so nice and easy, so many hisses and sports drinks, and even if the magic of the old Seigaku was fading, there were still more spells to try.

"You suck" Momo growled, leaping to his and feet and getting right in Kaidoh's ugly face. "You are so wrong"

Kaidoh forgot whatever he had said, but he sure wasn't going to take such a challenge sitting down, figuratively or literally. He felt strange fighting, though, with the backdrop of dark sky and rain slicing the air to shake the brown-orange leaves, autumn outside Ryuzaki's still-open window. He'd run through the downpour more than once that day, just because not-exercising made him feel off-balance and desperate about something he didn't even know, but this weather still made him sad, a twitching of his fingers, intrusion and withdrawal, chance and effect. He forgot to yell back at Momo, and the time he'd been caught by the clouds yielded the memory of the subject, the current Hyoutei team.

"It doesn't matter anyway" Kaidoh said. "What matters is our own strength."

"God" Momo sighed, leaning back again"You're so impossible."

It was like that time when Kaidoh had seen Momo and Echizen together, the two of them wrestling against the bike rack next to the pink-hewed strands of sunrise, that sick feeling before it had been explained, the quiet hate he had felt then, and when Inui-sempai had told him he was quitting tennis to pursue science. Why had he expected anything else, why did it matter? Kaidoh didn't think he was impossible, he just seemed that way to Momo. Momo's stance, the half-accents in the tone of his voice, they meant pure euphoria, that form of kindness and immaturity that for Kaidoh, looking at their doubles plans together, made him jealous.

Kaidoh wanted to be running through the rain. He ignored Momo's pointless words and just watched the shadows of the rain on the idiot's arm, imaginary wetness that erased itself in a mysterious dance, and felt happy.

"When I grow up" Momo said"I want to be a superhero! I'll be Super Momo"

Momoshiro couldn't be serious. Kaidoh turned to stare at him, hissing. Meetings between them never got anywhere, especially after the work had been finished. God, he hated Momoshiro.

"You can be my enemy" Momo said thoughtfully. "I guess. But then I'd have to vanquish you, so I guess you can be my sidekick instead."

"Kaidoh Kaoru is no one's sidekick."

"Who was your favorite hero when you were a kid" Momo asked later, changing together after a match. Kaidoh had won, but Momo had gotten the jump on him and pounded his face into the dirt, so he wasn't pouting anymore.

Kaidoh's hero had been his father, but Momo would just make fun of him for saying that. He wouldn't understand. Kaidoh just hissed and ignored his vice caption, watching the _stuff_ under the skin of Momo's back move as he was changing, reflected cleanly in the mirror of Echizen's locker. It was improper, though Kaidoh couldn't explain exactly why, but he still did it anyway.

He couldn't just grin and laugh like Momo. He couldn't brush things off, couldn't stuff his face or ogle girls or have friends. He couldn't have normal worries, couldn't have normal fears- he couldn't ever be satisfied with himself as he was. Momo could do everything Kaidoh couldn't, was the epitome of everything Kaidoh couldn't have, and the idiot just took it all for granted.

Kaidoh liked Momo's hair wet, those stupid spikes gone, any sort of posing or pretension removed, all those things that drove him so crazy. He liked Momo like this, because it was a feeling of being connected to him, and because he couldn't stop being annoyed by Momo, that uneasy feeling stayed, and grew with the accident, brush of gelled-soft hair against tennis-rough hands, porcupine spikes or blades of grass, only real.

Momo bought a puppy and took it to school one day, making sure everyone met Lucky, the new tennis club mascot. The next day, rumors of a brawl between Lucky and Echizen's cat surfaced, the reason that Lucky wouldn't soon return. Kaidoh hadn't even gotten to touch the puppy, but he'd wanted to. He stiffly wished Lucky strength through Momo, hoping for a speedy convalescence. The idea of the tiny animal, guileless and enthusiastic as its owner- the idea of Lucky being hurt, that thought just drove Kaidoh crazy.

He went to Momo's house, sneaking in behind Momo's terrifying little sisters and climbing the stairs hunched over to avoid detection. He knew violating someone's home was an awful thing to do, but he'd apologize to Momoshiro's parents later, when he was sure their son wasn't going to come around. It was easy to tell which room was Momo's, wet, wrinkled clothes overflowing into the hallway. Kaidoh hesitated at the threshold, though, feeling unspeakably awkward. Finally, he bowed his head and walked in. One step, two step, then he'd been rewarded with Lucky's joyous yelps as the now-sizable dog pounced on him. Momo had been gone all day, so the dog was lonely.

Momo found them that way when he got home, making quite a picture, Lucky's wet nose and fur of shot-gold to the sounds of Kaidoh's low, helpless laughter, the striking-ness of the striking-ness of Mamushi's cheeks, flushed with red-pink. Kaidoh's hands were stroking the pooch with careful adoration, short fingernails behind ears bringing Lucky to a contented sigh, excited but a little in love, too. In English class, the teacher was always talking about natural sympathies.

Momo attacked an unsuspecting Kaidoh with a flurry of questions. What was Kaidoh doing here? Wow, he liked dogs, who would have thought? You like Lucky? Yeah, isn't she the coolest? Oh, shut up, Mamushi, we shouldn't brawl in front of a lady. Hey, wanna see where I got the name Lucky from? No, not Lucky Sengoku, you asshole! I beat him, why would I name my dog after him, you brainless- um. Anyway. Mamushi, come ON…

Kaidoh was trapped and furious until the movie's opening credits struck up. Resigned to his fate, his indignation got stolen by the first appearance of Lucky's namesake. Yes, he was with this stupid Dunk Smash rival- but- but- sappy dog movie! But then there was the conflict, and danger…

Within an hour and a half, Kaidoh and Momo had consumed the vast majority of the house's food supply, Lucky and his young master had been torn apart and reunited, and Momo had been reduced to tears. "Gah" Momo wailed. "That was such a great movie"

He shifted, turned to Kaidoh, expecting cool scorn, and found his arch-rival with tears streaming down his face, quiet sobs escaping his throat. "Oh, Mamushi" Momo cried, throwing himself onto the other boy. Kaidoh stiffened at first, then let out another stream of tears, feeling his heart ready to start burning, smiling. Lucky had found his way home.

Momo kissed Kaidoh on Christmas Eve, cutting off an argument because they'd passed under the street tennis court's very own strand of mistletoe. For some reason, Kaidoh ended up kissing him back.

"Wow" Momo said helpfully, breath coming in short gasps. "That was… gross." His purple eyes were indescribably luminous in the spotlight.

"Hn" Kaidoh said, and almost smiled back. "You're disgusting."

Momo kissed him again, long and clumsy, but it got better as it went along. First it was just lips, chapped and blue and the sour, salty color of sweat, but then it was warmth, bright orange screaming aggression adrenaline that so much meant the future, and it felt… Sure, Momoshiro sucked at this, but he learned quickly. Snow melted into the shoes on Kaidoh's feet as Momo sagged against him, trying to get warm, warmer than the beeping digital watch, not waterproof against the snowflakes breaking open the gray-blue birth-of-god sky.

The tennis balls in Momo's bag fell, spilling out and escaping down the street. Kaidoh went home, Hazue opening the door and smirking at the dazed look on his older brother's face, Momo going home to howl out carols with his Buddhist-but-fun-loving family, but on Boxing Day that year, Momo gave Kaidoh his favorite gift of all: a puppy. Lucky was all grown up now, and his girlfriend had given birth to a whole litter. Momo gave Kaidoh the smallest and weakest, the runt of the litter, because he knew Kaidoh would help it grow stronger, and in any case, it was the one Kaidoh liked the most.


End file.
